


movement

by misguidedmalfoy



Series: another lover hits the universe [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Draco is Pissed at Harry, Gay Awakening, Gay Panic, M/M, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25138285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misguidedmalfoy/pseuds/misguidedmalfoy
Summary: The Yule Ball hasn't quite lived up to Draco Malfoy's expectations: Pansy hasn't stopped complaining, everything feels so awkward, and Potter is just as annoying as he always has been.Blaise, however, decides that Draco isn't meant to have an entirely awful time.They did, after all, learn how to ballroom dance when they were seven.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini
Series: another lover hits the universe [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722472
Comments: 2
Kudos: 108





	movement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingsbydestiny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingsbydestiny/gifts).



> i finally finished my draise fic! this one's for des, i hope you love it even though blaise is with someone else <3

The Yule Ball was in full swing, and Pansy hadn’t stopped complaining since after the first dance.

“My feet hurt, these shoes were a bloody mistake.” She whined, with her feet up on a chair she’d stolen from a neighboring table. She kept rubbing her heels, and complained every few minutes. 

It was grating on Draco’s nerves. He rolled his eyes and scowled.

“I feel like I said those exact words when you bought them,” he muttered.

His response earned him a hard punch to the arm.

He shot Pansy a glare while he rubbed his forearm, before returning his gaze to the dance floor. His gaze fell on a particular Gryffindor, and he narrowed his eyes. 

Potter looked like a fish out of water. His date, whose name Draco couldn’t bother to remember, looked how Draco often felt towards Potter: annoyed, contemptuous, and dreadfully smitten. 

He considered turning to Pansy to snark, but the ache in his arm made him reconsider.

A voice drew him out of the trance he’d fallen into with his eyes on Potter.

“Mate.”

Draco gasped, and nearly fell off his chair. 

When he looked up, Blaise was standing in front of him, looking amused as ever. 

“Stop staring at Potter’s ass. He’s not going to date you,” Blaise said, and Draco deadpanned, though he felt his ears getting hot with embarrassment. Blaise had all but read his thoughts, and Draco felt his defenses rise. 

“I don’t bloody want him to, he’s annoying,” Draco snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest, prompting an eye roll from Blaise. Draco didn’t particularly mind ignoring Blaise, but his next words drew Draco out of the poor mood he was sinking into. 

“Quit sulking and dance with me. Pansy is clearly incapacitated, and my date is in love with Alexandre Beaumont from Beauxbatons,” Blaise said, badly imitating a heavy French accent. Draco cocked an eyebrow. “Of course she is, it’s Daphne,” Draco smirked, “And dance with you? Is this like when we had those practice dances as kids before the pureblood galas?” 

Blaise nodded. “Exactly. Now come on, I’m bored and I’m going to leave if we don’t.” 

Draco rolled his eyes, but got to his feet anyway. He glanced around, trying to see if anyone was looking, but before he’d gotten much more than a glance, Blaise grabbed Draco’s arm and pulled him out into the middle of the floor. 

Draco felt as though he were exposed, like he’d suddenly been put as the front page of a gossip magazine. He relished attention, but this kind of attention was all wrong. He felt scrutinized, and his robes felt out of place, like they were a few sizes too large and he’d shrunken. He raised a hand to his hair, carefully placing any stray pieces back to where they should be in a shallow attempt to control his appearance.

His thoughts came to a screeching halt as a hand slipped into his. 

“No one cares, Draco, everyone’s too dreadfully concerned about how they look and who’s looking at them to care.” Blaise said.

All of Draco’s confidence flooded out of him, and he felt rather… sweaty, much to his distaste. 

Since when had Blaise’s touch made him feel so nervous?

Heat rose to his cheeks as Blaise put a hand on his waist. 

“Is this your first time dancing?” Blaise mocked, pulling Draco along as a new waltz began playing. Draco knew he knew this dance, the song was familiar, but he’d forgotten how to stand on both feet, let alone join Blaise in the steps. “Is this yours?” Draco retorted, but it was a weak reply and he hadn’t heard his voice crack since he was thirteen.

Blaise just laughed, and pulled Draco along regardless.

Draco met Blaise’s eyes. He’d never paid any particular attention to Blaise’s appearance, at least no more than anyone else had, but suddenly everything about Blaise made Draco’s heart pound. He was painfully aware of the way Blaise’s hand rested on his side, the way his own hand rested on Blaise’s shoulder. 

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy didn’t feel the least bit sure of himself.

“Did I tell you you looked nice tonight?” Blaise asked, and Draco swore his heart had stopped beating. He began to wonder if he’d imagined the words coming out of Blaise’s mouth, and Blaise laughed at what had obviously been a dumb expression on Draco’s face. 

“Draco, I’ve never seen you this red in my life. Are you alright?” 

_No, not particularly,_ Draco thought, but nodded anyway. “I’m fine. You look... good too,” He said, suddenly unsure of his own ability to speak. Blaise just smiled and pulled him closer.

A brief panic took hold of Draco and he began to worry that perhaps others on the floor had begun to notice the two of them dancing. He glanced around as calmly as he could manage, but Blaise had been right. Not a single person was paying attention to anything other than themselves or their date. Everyone looked just as awkward as Draco felt.

Keeping up appearances ruled Draco’s life, but tonight, it ruled everyone else’s too.

He let himself step in time with the waltz that was playing. Blaise led the dance, and Draco was thankful despite his usual need for control; he wasn’t sure that his feet would move if he were leading.

“I think that we’re the only ones here who know what we’re doing,” Draco muttered, and Blaise laughed. Draco’s heart skipped a beat; Blaise’s laugh hadn’t ever sounded so nice. 

_Sounded so nice?_

Draco felt rather nauseous, shocked by his own strange choice of wording. He’d never considered Blaise as… nice. 

He glanced away, trying to find reassurance to calm the nerves that were making his hands so sweaty. 

A pair of green eyes met Draco’s, and a brand new feeling washed over him. He’d hoped that if he were noticed, it would at least be by one of the other Slytherins who would know it was a joke. 

Instead, he’d encountered the worst possible situation. 

Potter stared from a few feet away from over his date’s shoulder. His expression was unreadable, but it said enough.

Draco froze mid-step, and immediately felt himself come crashing back to reality. 

Blaise stopped with Draco.

“Is everything okay?” Blaise said, and Draco nodded, but felt the happiness fading from his features as fast as it came. 

Something akin to shame began to flood his veins, and he stepped back from Blaise. Every instinct he had told him to flee as casually as possible: step away, excuse himself for the bathroom. However, it seemed Blaise could tell exactly what Draco was thinking; before Draco could carry out his plan to escape, Blaise took his hand and led him away. The two of them walked off of the floor as though nothing strange had happened.

Draco’s ears had become hot again, but it wasn’t accompanied by the unfamiliar euphoria as before. He was burning with shame, and he felt like he needed to make himself as small as possible or perhaps disappear all together.

No one spared him or Blaise a look as they left the Great Hall.

Blaise held Draco’s hand tightly, glancing over as Draco began to rant.

“Potter had to go and stick his nose into my business as he always does,” Draco hissed as his humiliation turned into anger. “Thinks he deserves to force himself into everything he can because he’s the bloody Chosen One.” He clenched his jaw, planning to do everything in his power to humiliate Potter just as much as Potter had humiliated him. 

Draco’s anger continued to mount as Blaise led them outside onto one of the balconies. 

Blaise sighed, knowing full well that Draco’s rant could go on for much longer if he wasn’t stopped. Before Draco could begin to pace, Blaise gripped Draco’s shoulders and held him still, and Draco closed his mouth just as he’d opened it to continue.

Blaise looked Draco in the eyes. 

“It’s fine. As far as Potter knows, we were just dancing as a joke, and it’s none of his business anyway,” Blaise said, and Draco frowned. A strange sensation of anxiety built up in his chest, and he began to wonder if their dance had been a joke. He started to feel his excitement fall, but...

But Blaise had said “as far as Potter knows.”

Draco forced the rogue insecurity down, and took a breath. He wasn’t one to be indirect, if he’d learned anything from his father, it was that directness was key. So he spoke again, and this time, his tone was much more even. 

“Were we?” He asked. “Dancing as a joke, I mean.” His heart was pounding. _Malfoys didn’t get nervous over trivial things,_ he thought, but shook off the thought and watched Blaise for a reaction.

Blaise slid his hands from Draco’s shoulders to his upper arms. Their eyes met, and everything seemed to still around them.

And then, before Draco could stumble over his words more, or flee in a moment of panic, Blaise reached up to cup Draco’s cheek. Blaise’s fingers were cold against Draco’s cheeks, which seemed to become increasingly warm under Blaise’s gaze.

Draco’s heart was pounding, and his eyes kept flitting between Blaise’s lips and his eyes. 

He was frozen, and he’d forgotten exactly how one was meant to kiss someone else.

Blaise smirked, and before Draco could sputter out something incoherent, Blaise’s lips met Draco’s. He was careful, chaste, unwilling to push Draco too far. But Draco didn’t push back, nor did he panic. 

It felt right, it felt more right than anything had in a long time. 

He’d tried to recall how it had been when he kissed Pansy, trying desperately to figure out what he should do. But anything he’d done with Pansy was all wrong, and Blaise was so right. Blaise’s lips were soft, gentle, and Merlin, Draco wanted this moment to go on forever. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the end of the world that Potter saw the two of them dancing.

Draco broke their kiss, unwilling to lose himself in the moment and make a wrong move. He felt like he’d stepped into a completely new territory, and he was completely and utterly in the dark. 

He wasn’t going to push too far too fast.

“Either we weren’t, or this joke is going on for a long time.” Blaise said, brushing his fingers over Draco’s lips. 

Draco’s heart was racing, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of the boy in front of him.

“Must be a good joke, then,” Draco said with a small smirk. He let euphoria control him for a moment, and he pressed a short kiss to Blaise’s lips. 

Blaise slipped his hand into Draco’s, and as Draco pulled away, they both sat much closer than they had before. Draco felt that the warmth of Blaise against his side was better than any warming charm he’d ever attempted to cast.

“Shall we look at the stars on this fine Christmas night, good sir?” Blaise said in the most posh voice he could manage, and Draco grinned. 

“I do believe we shall,” Draco replied, resting his head on Blaise’s shoulder. He’d never relished Blaise’s height advantage over his own, at least until now. Now, he was extremely content with the way his head seemed to fit perfectly in the crook of Blaise’s neck. 

Everything seemed to slip from Draco’s mind except the hand in his, and the way Blaise’s robes felt on his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Draco.”

Draco’s cheeks warmed, but the anxiety from before seemed to have fled. “Merry Christmas, Blaise.” 

Neither of them felt the bitter cold from the air around them, content in their warmth from their close proximity. 

Draco had had many grand Christmases, filled with trips across Europe and plenty of gifts from his parents. 

This year, he was at school, he hadn’t gotten his usual royal spoiling from his parents. 

And yet, this one felt the most grand out of them all. 

  
  



End file.
